Sweet Distractions
by booyahbecky
Summary: She's his distraction in the city that never sleeps as he bides his time, always waiting for another. Seduction leads to destruction, and what happens when Mai's feelings get the better of her as she tries to compete with the doppleganger charm? SET BEFORE/START OF SEASON 1
1. Introduction to Red

Pizza. The world renowned fast food, with more takeaways and businesses built and destroyed on it than any other. If only Raffaele Esposito hadn't decided to make a good old peasant pizza pie when the king and queen came to visit, I wouldn't stink of cheese and tomatoes 4 nights of the week. Fact-time: America eats 350 slices of pizza a second. If we're going to do this right, an average pizza has 10 slices, so 35 pizza's a second. 2100 pizza's a minute, every hour 126,000 pizzas are eaten. An average shift for a delivery driver - probably six hours? Most hours ran into the next as I poured over maps and fought off drunken idiots who didn't have the right change. So, for six hours every night the takeaway providers of America and I combine to deliver 756,000 pizzas. I sure as hell couldn't fit that many pizza boxes in my car. Sounds like fun, huh?

My boss is an asshole; he declares on his flyers, that I deliver for an extra ten dollars every now and then, that his seedy little backstreet shop makes 'The best pizza's in New York!" Brooklyn's pretty big when you're delivering the best pizza in Brooklyn. Only, nobody had bought into that 'best pizza' shit since the 90's, now the only people who call are drunken shits that lived in creepy apartment blocks that send those shivers down your spine. So I braved the ghetto areas and drug dealer's front doors for crappy $15 gas money and a $2 delivery charge to any place in town. Maybe I complain too much, that $2 delivery charge kept my head above water after my university fees came off. Advice – if your parent's couldn't do it, you sure as hell can't.

I'm a third year medical student, at the supposedly beautiful age of 21 that works two shitty jobs back-to-back before shoving on a white med coat and turning into a motherfucking genius. And curtsy. My life was a shit-show. But god, how many times did my mom tell me that was what life was like? Maybe I just didn't figure when my acceptance letter came through the post I would be known as the 'pizza girl' to half of Manhattans alcoholics.

Anyway, back to the job at hand. Pizzas. Two of them were currently burning through my passenger seat as I wheeled through the busy streets with my music blasting loud. Two a.m. seemed to be the only time I could work without having to wait at every traffic light in the city. This delivery however, was all the way across the bridge.

"Look at it this way signorina," My boss – Pascal told me in his fake Italian accent as he tried to catch a glimpse down my blouse. "If you meet someone famous, it's all down to me!" Yeah, maybe I would I thought, after I yelled for five minutes straight that $2 did not even begin to cover a forty minute car journey. He waved me off and told me to get an autograph, taking another call. I qualified that as my last delivery of the night. I had an anatomy test in the morning - the smell of stale pizza just seemed to beckon good test results. I'd told Pascal I quit so many times my fingers and toes couldn't cover it. The man was a bastard, but he let me come back every time, probably because he saw my boobs once by accident, but whatever, he kept me employed.

Columbus Avenue, god I couldn't wait for the disapproving glances at my greasy hair and stained t-shirt from the tweens ready to inherit half a billion but couldn't even give a few dollars tip, whilst I busted my ass out here, providing a service to New York City. Really, I was just fucking jealous; it'd be nice to go home to a million dollar house with a soft bed and hot water instead of my cramped apartment I shared with my fellow student, where I'd slept on a stupid sofa-bed for the past few months after my ex got a little adventurous one night. Although I didn't even get to experience the adventure, it was another slut who broke the last goddamn comfy thing in my room. I'd buy a new one the day Pascal gave me $15 for travelling to the Upper East Side. Fucking never.

Jesus I felt ill. The stench was getting to me, and my front windows were jammed shut and unmoving until the next car check-up. Fucking never. See? Money can buy happiness, or at least a little stress relief. One day I'm gonna wipe my ass with $500 dollar bills and send them to Pascal.

By the time I got to the lobby of the fancy building, I was convinced this pizza was for drug dealers. Who knows? Maybe Pascal had made a special little pizza a la brownie style, I sniffed inside a little, but nope it smelled pretty margarita, anchovies and extra peppery to me. No-one in the Upper East Side ordered pizza from Brooklyn without an agenda, apart from the guy from Gossip Girl who I'd reported back to Leila really was English and she'd spent the rest of her morning crying over her Cookie Crisp. The fabulous life of students.

Apparently our pizza was greasy enough for the British unlike Dominoes, bastards. Those smug motherfuckers who drove around on cool motorbikes with cute little matching hats and t-shirts. I think everyone should know that wearing a nice t-shirt on the job usually meant you would never wear it again ever in daylight, it had been christened to the smell of pizza and once a t-shirt smells like pizza – it never stops.

I was greeted by a pompous idiot, who asked me where I was from blah blah blah. Seriously though, I was offended that he even thought I was a prostitute or a drugged up idiot, I mean I would have brought out the fur coat for that side job. Fact – prostitutes make more money than me on a good night, especially after this run.

By the time I got into the elevator on my way to the 'penthouse' (definitely a drug dealer) I was done. Why could elevators not time their break down's perfectly? I would have enjoyed a nap on the marble floor that was cleaner than my kitchen counter at home; I could see my face reflected in it, which most definitely reminded me to wear a hat more often. Greasy hair and day old makeup didn't suit anybody, and if you tell me that Julia Roberts could pull it off in Pretty Woman then fuck you.

Maybe this could be my calling, I mean I always figured I'd be a good drug mule, and maybe this guy would put me in a bit of a predicament and I'd cave, the coward that I was, and surely I would make more money selling a few bags of cocaine a night shoved in a pizza box? But then would come the awkward day when I would get my medical degree and bam – treating an overdose. 'Hey didn't you used to hide my coke bags in those pizza boxes?' Medical degree, sucky years of life and soft bed down the drain for an extra fifty bucks. Yeah, I should just stick to pizza and trying not to be a coward.

The top floor of this building was pretty much bigger than every room in my apartment, all wooden panelling and dim lights with those views that entice every tourist in the world that New York truly is the city that never sleeps. Jesus, the plants looked more expensive than my whole outfit. I made a last minute decision to wipe my hands on my jeans before pressing the doorbell, thank god. Paw marks all over the door screamed cheap delivery and I shifted uncomfortably against the stupid 16" pizza. This t-shirt was definitely going to be relieved of duty tonight. Trash can for you sweetie, I stroked it lovingly, my nose scrunching when I found some leaked tomato paste. Life.

They took their sweet time to answer, and I rang again impatiently leaving a nice little red stain for the maid or whatever to clean. Hats off to the woman that scrubbed those floors though, she deserved a tip more than I did. But, when they did decide that oh! The pizza they ordered an hour and a half ago was here, I gawped like the weirdo geek I usually kept hidden for special occasions and very close friends. It was that bad. Bad's a bad word to use, maybe freaky? Let's go with freaky.

Boom, blonde chick all in my face nearly knocking me out with the stereo blasting behind her and the booze from her breath. Damn, she needed some mints or chewing gum or something with an essence of mint. Ugh. Now, she'd clearly just got laid or maybe her rich drug dealer boyfriend just handed out t-shirts left right and centre. It couldn't be her place; she was white trash like me. We belonged together, heck we probably went to kindergarten together. Whatever, her fake tan was too patchy and she had too many layers of mascara on to even allow the slightest idea that she owned this place. Now I know why Columbus Avenue was buying from Pascal's Pizza Portions. She giggled and fumbled about like a friggin' idiot, had she never drunk-dialled before? Amateur, I could go pro with my meticulous counting of pennies before my takeaways arrived, I always tipped generously too, gotta let the others know you have their back.

Turns out she didn't have enough change, silly her! Yeah, silly bitch. But of course the customer knows best, but that didn't mean I couldn't picture stamping her pizza into that lush cream carpet peeking out from behind the door. If I didn't get a tip for this I swear to god, I quit. I quit medical school, I quit pizza, and I quit New York. I'm moving to Ireland so they can seduce me with their accents.

"Mr Salvatore have you got any change?" She shouted, and I nearly dropped to the floor. She was SO totally shacking up with an old man. _Mr Salvatore,_ oh god this was a Hugh Hefner worthy story. Or maybe, it was Hugh Hefner under a false name? I would totally take up the opportunity to be a Playboy bunny, I mean my boobs weren't that bad, and he would tell the press I was his diamond in the rough, but I probably wouldn't be able to cope kissing old man lips. It would be like your gramps sexually harassing you, so wrong. If he asked me if I wanted to join him on the private jet back to L.A after seeing my bootylicious body all wrapped in pizza perfume with some greasy strands of hair hanging over my face, I would graciously decline, Mr Hefner I have a career ahead of me, but never forget me, the one girl who resisted your pervert eyes, cue eyelash flutter.

So, you can imagine my surprise when holy goodness mother of god mister panty dropping most beautiful man ever came up to the door behind her. Here I am all ready for a smoking jacket wearing grandpa lookalike and what do I get? A freaking sex god. I needed support, like that really comfy looking door-frame that would keep me upright long enough for him to claim me as his and hopefully be hiding a bed in that apartment. I wasn't greedy; I would share him with skanky stupid blonde bitch. Whatever works for him. Oh god I felt warm, his eyes flicked to mine and goodness gracious this wasn't fair! The one night I risked not washing my hair and leaving my hat at home. I needed one of those remote control things in the film Click so I could pause, run back to my apartment and shove on my fuck me heels and some red lipstick. And shower.

Now to even begin to describe the man in front of me, um spread your legs fuck me hot? Seriously, I haven't got laid in a while; leave me and my too many sexual references alone. So, I hadn't seen such a fine specimen of a man in a while. His skin was pale, not like one of those Californian dudes, he had an actually believable skin colour, and did he have good bone structure or did he have good bone structure. His high cheek bones and jaw were delicious, I just wanted to lick them, goodness. I was going to let him keep his money and make him pay me in sexual favours. His hair was raven black, all over the place, total sex hair. Stupid Barbie letting me get jealous that she had ran her fingers through it. And now, to the eyes. I'd never seen eyes more beautiful and mischievous than his, and I'd delivered pizza to a lot of people. They were ocean blue, now I know a lot of people spout crap about how clear someone's eyes were, but his eyes were clear – like Mediterranean Sea blue, I don't know if you've ever seen it, but I have to say, it's really really blue. He was now my favourite customer ever. If only he would invite me in for a few minutes, maybe hours? Pretty please?

It felt as if he looked at me for the full zombie apocalypse, and I watched him watch my blush spread slowly over every crevice of my face. Thank you mother, for that beautiful gene. God dammit why did this have to be today? I did not need some hot guy making me all restless before this exam tomorrow. If I fail, I'm gonna pizza pie his face…before licking it all off. Yeah, not good.

He handed me a $500 dollar note and was my mouth open? Oh my god. This was my bed. He just presented me with a bed. I'm in love with this guy, he can keep me in his apartment forever and do naughty things and I won't even mind, my inner child wanted to grab his leg and kiss his face before stealing his clothes. But my momma raised me to be a good citizen, so of course I fumbled around like Barbie skank, even though I'd just mentally ripped her apart because of it, pretending that of course I made enough money to even be pretending to have enough money to give him any change.

"Keep the change," I nearly screamed "you filthy animal" back at him, but instead I decided to focus on the fact that he sounded as if he was spouting rainbows and glitter and everything beautiful. Cue blush and need to kiss his bare feet.

"Thanks!" I settled for, sounding like the overly enthusiastic pizza deliverer I'd learned all my lines from in Home Alone. I liked Kevin McAllister a lot, and if my kid didn't even try to have a Home Alone experience I would have serious worrying to do.

"No problem," Oh no! He was doing a cute little half smile and I swear he just wanted me to turn beetroot; no I wouldn't look at him anymore, so instead I looked over at Barbie skank and did a double take, because hot guys t-shirt had moved and holy bleeding hickey?

Blood was forming a sticky little coating on the black and damn did that look sore! I flicked my eyes to hers, hmm glazed. Slutty and drunk with a hot asshole taking advantage of her. Dammit, why were all the hot ones bastards?

"Damn, she's going to regret that in the morning." I commented to said asshole, crossing my arms over my chest. Dick. He wasn't getting my nice I-wanna-fuck-you eyes now, he was getting my serious I-fucking-dislike-you eyes. I hope he noticed the difference, and would stop with all the long stares and lovely half-smiles. Apparently he did, as he leaned towards me, his eyes going all intense and his pupils dilating. I knew he was a druggie!

"She scratched herself with her stupid long nails." Jeez, this guy was getting a little too close for comfort. Alert alert pizza girl safety rules in recognition. Step backwards – remember a kick to the groin is acceptable if you don't get a tip. But now that I thought about it – he gave me a pretty big fucking tip. Maybe I should just slap him. Yuck, I hated touchy-feeling guys.

"Of course she did," I scoffed, pulling a menu from my back pocket. "Enjoy your meal, Mr Salvatore. And call again." I handed him the crappiest excuse for a menu ever, and backed off as I saw him frown slightly. Why did he have a beautiful smile? Asshole that gives me big tips. Asshole.

Jesus Christ why couldn't this lift come faster, I heard him murmur something to Blondie skank and then it was me, him, and a whole lot of sexual tension that I was pretty sure only I was feeling.

"Call me Damon." Damon, I needed to get out of here before I sexually assaulted this man who apparently took advantage of drunken girls, did drugs and was insanely rich. So hot. "And what can I call you?" His face transitioned into a sexy smirk that made my panties damp. Oh my god, I was sending Pascal to do this delivery next time, it would only end badly in a one night stand and a half crushed heart.

"You can call me pizza-girl." I told him cockily, arching my eyebrows as the lift came right there and then. Yes! Now I looked super cool and powerful, I was taking this elevator home.

"I'll ask for you pizza-girl," He winked and then the door was shut and I was all alone in the hall, almost missing the elevator. I pressed the button again quickly, hoping he didn't realise my super power was gone. I collapsed once inside sliding down the wall like a love-struck teen.

"Holy shit!" I shouted to myself as I fanned my face with my first $500 bill that I had ever handled. I missed Damon already. And what a hot name – Damon, damn I think I'm in love. I mentally high-fived myself at how I had handled the situation – 'you can call me pizza-girl' that was the best line I'd ever came out with in the history of men. Why couldn't I just think of these things! I mean it was simple but beautiful and if he didn't want me and my greasy hair after that then god-dammit I didn't stand a chance.

2 hours later, still shivering from my ice cold shower I was still thinking of hot Damon and mysterious bloody hickey. If he didn't call for another pizza, then our imaginary relationship was over before it even began. He better call. Crazy druggie asshole.


	2. Agendas

I was freaking tired. Last night – thanks to a beautiful man's tip exactly two weeks ago I had received a pretty marvellous bed if I do say so myself. All king-size and leathery. Yummy. The delivery guy had arrived after I'd returned from my shift at the campus coffee shop, so I'd had exactly four hours to admire the nicest piece of furniture I owned.

Only, last night – the call of the pizza had sentenced me to a full seven hours in my car. So, got back home and look at that! The bed hadn't magically fit itself together. So instead of my comfy night on my new bed I spend another night fighting for the cushions with Leila's insane cat. Kitty. Kitty my ass, that thing had learned its tricks in the dumpsters, I was onto him.

Anyway, onto beautiful guy. Did he call? Fucking no. I didn't really expect it, but it was a kick in my fat ass. I had tried really hard to be alluring 'I mean call me pizza girl?" It was ingenious, but apparently someone didn't see my potential. Whatever, I would use it next time I was out – getting all the cheating bastards, boo-yah. I'd moped around Pascal's for two weeks waiting on him calling – and now I drew the line. I mean why should I practically lick his face while he ignored me? Nope. I didn't even care about those damn beautiful eyes, no. He was a creep, a weirdo who hickeyed the shit out of his girlfriends, and really I wasn't into the hard-core shit so we wouldn't even have got along. It was for the best.

Tonight was my official moving-on-from-sex-god party. I had a 'date'. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Mai Crossar had a d-a-t-e. And it wasn't an asshole! Mai 1 – Life 0. He was a friend of one of my friend's law student's friends, and I'd totally checked out his Facebook profile, and was I in for a treat or what.

So now, here I was rushing around with cheap coffee and an essay that had to be handed in within the next hour, with a full day to myself to find something nice to wear. A full day, I almost didn't know what to do with myself. Well, really I did but that would consist of sweating my water levels out trying to move a mattress, studying until I spewed antibodies in my sleep, before going out in my first date in five months in an 'acceptable' dress. Hell no, I needed to make a good impression. So right now, armed with Leila's Bloomingdales staff discount and forty bucks, I was ready for some serious cheap designer clothes.

I was headed to the university first, totally ready for a pamper day until some idiot bumped right into me and hot hot hot coffee down the white blouse right down, right down. Ouch. Breasts – meet third degree burns.

"You..." I screamed, flashing more than I probably should be in the middle of a street, until I saw who it was. And of course it was him, I would meet, for once looking presentable, and then he spills coffee down me. Go Mai, you go girl.

"I would say but I'm really not," He smirked, glimpsing down my top as I glared at him. He took his sunglasses of slowly and no – he totally knew what he was doing bringing his eyes and intense stare thingy into this. I hated him

"You so owe me a new top," I was pathetic, jeez I was practically drooling already and I'd looked at him for half a second. But god can you blame me? All black leather jacket and aviators. Bastard.

"That top was too girly for you anyway; you're more of a red girl, none of this stupid white." He said, fingering the delicate material as I blushed – god damn red. Who did he think he was anyway? Telling me what colour I suited? If I remembered correctly, I'd worn a 'Goonies Never Say Die" t-shirt the last time I'd seen him which should eliminate all other colours that I suited. Truffle shufflin'.

I rolled my eyes, my hand going to my hip as I looked him over. Why couldn't I be sexy? I mean even right now, with my hand on my hip, pouting, I knew I looked like a five year old girl that's dolly had been stolen. I mean my breasts were literally aching from my coffee and have I ever mentioned that coffee stains and white don't go? Because they definitely don't. But then he leaned forward, and was this working? I am a love guru, next time I go out looking for a man all I need is some chicken fillets and a little bit of original model hip popping. Boo-yah.

And back to the matter at hand, ladies and gentlemen a hot guy – a really hot guy was leaning towards me and it totally looked as if he was gonna kiss me from my perspective which is most definitely why I shut my eyes and dammit I still wasn't good at this thing – I needed a blow up doll I could carry around with my to practice these things with, maybe Leila would buy me one for Christmas. His finger touched my bottom lip and was this really happening in the middle of the street? Weren't these things supposed to happen in the pouring rain or I don't know, on stage at a concert? An Officer and a Gentleman sets the bar way too high.

Wait, I wasn't supposed to like him! He was an ass who told me he would ask for me and didn't – as petty and 90210 as it sounds. Damn him, my heart was fluttering like a bird and would it just slow down for a second? It was making my face beetroot. Think of other thoughts Mai, think of hot lawyer boy you're going out with, think of how he's overall average, whereas this guy, wow. Stop being a silly bitch, stop being a silly bitch, inner power think about dead puppies, that's sad. Dead husky puppies are even sadder, so with this image, side-step into an annoyed New Yorker and avoid those marvellous fingers.

"You really need to work on your chat up lines, Mr Salvatore." I told him, pressing my apparently desirable lips together tightly to stop my stupid giggle escaping. Oh my, I was reverting back to my seventeen year old self and I loved it. If this continued, I'd be writing the next 'You Belong with Me' T-Swift, eat your heart out.

"I told you to call me Damon, pizza-girl." He smirked, and then he licked his lips and I was totally done for. Date-night, date-night, no blue eyed men allowed. I was finding it hard to string a sentence together, and why was this happening to me? Why couldn't it have happened to Leila and she could have punched him for being an ass, and then he would fall in love instantly. This had to happen to me, the push-over of the group.

"What makes you think I want to be on first-name terms with you?" I told him, probably the biggest lie of my life. I wanted to be on more than first-name terms with every lickable part of his body. Move leg forward whilst contracting the other and placing it in front and continue until you are on the other side of New York. I only managed a couple of steps before he was following me as I fumbled in my bag for my jumper. That was green. Green was safe.

"Ooh, someone's a little sensitive. Was it because I didn't call? What if I told you I wasn't in the mood for pizza these last few weeks, but now, now I'm craving it." He purred in my ear and no I'm not doing this. I can't do this, he was wrecking me and I'd seen him twice. If we fucked, he would have my sweet little heart in his hands, and I'm pretty sure he knew it.

"What do you want from me?" I stopped turning to face him, and god why did I do that? He was too distracting, with that stupid smirk playing over his mouth. And then he leaned close again and stroked my face, dammit dammit dammit. That was the worst question ever, so many sexual innuendos rolled into a question mark.

"I want you, sweating, screaming, tonight." He told me, and wow was he forward. This was our second meeting. SECOND. And the first time I was delivering pizza, so really that doesn't count. He probably thought I was the same class as Barbie Skank, but hell no. I hate men. Ignorant assholes who think it's okay just to ask for sex in the middle of a crowded street. My feminism was firmly in place as my hand swiped forward, and damn this was the first time I'd touched him willingly. But I had to say, the smack that echoed made me feel a little satisfied. I ignored the fact that I wanted to kiss his cheek until it didn't hurt anymore.

"Fiesty," He chuckled behind me, as I stormed away and why couldn't someone have been videoing that so I could show it to every man that treated me like a prostitute, including an extended version for all my ex-boyfriends?

"Asshole," I mumbled, walking as fast as I could away from that stupid hot idiot. He blew it; our imaginary relationship was now completely finito.

"Oh come on, don't be like that!" He whined behind me, I swear he was the only man on Earth that could get away with whining with the exception of Orlando Bloom. "I still need to buy you a new shirt," He said sweetly striding beside me in the street. Such beautiful legs, no I needed to stop it. Mai was angry and angry Mai liked nothing.

"I'll send you the dry-cleaning bill." I told him dismissively, and mother of god why were my legs so short, I needed super model legs to speed me over to Bloomingdales where I could hid behind racks of clothes and get away from the beautiful pervert.

"That would include you having to give me your name, and you wouldn't want to do that now would you pizza-girl? I have connections," The impish grin crossing his face totally made me believe that he would arrive at my doorstep one day all ruffled and handsome and I would invite him in and bam – naked. Not a smooth move.

I chewed my lip as I thought it over; I mean would it be _that_ bad to hang about with an insanely handsome man for the day? Even though he only wanted my bootilicious body? And I'd slapped him two minutes earlier for sexual references? And I'd probably jump his bones before the day was over? What the heck.

"Fine, you can buy me a new shirt, but I need to run a few errands first. You can go do whatever, and I'll meet you later if that suits?" Please let him go away for a few minutes at least so I could straightened my mangled head, please god be kind, I'll never eat another cookie again.

"Oh no, I'll stick around, I don't mind." That stupid smirk was still in place and why did it feel as if he'd won this thing?

"Whatever," I muttered continuing to walk. Asshole. He was so damn infuriating, why couldn't he just leave me be? Two weeks ago I would have been dying to have him follow me around like a lost puppy, but then he left me handing and reminded me of every ex I've ever had and that thought kinda made me want to puke. Let the fun begin.

This was killing me. Literally, sexual tension everywhere, he made me want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. Who knew someone so hot could grate on my nerves so much, with stupid sly comments and a general attitude that exuded fucking smugness. I hated it; I hated him I decided ever since he told me he wanted me.

We were on the subway to campus, and he was trying to guess what I was majoring in. He was way off base, apparently I looked like an Events Managements sort of girl, and that thought was laughable. I could wipe the floor with an Events Managements student, anyway I'd let him keep guessing. He really did think I was another easy whore, little did he know he was trying to pick up the friggin' geek, genius, weirdo, whatever.

"Okay, last guess what about Hospitality? Cooking? You look like a good cook." I snorted, taking another sip of the coffee that he'd insisted he refund. My stains were all covered up with my trusty green jumper. My date tonight had green eyes. As I said, safe.

"Wrong again, Salvatore. And just a heads up, I burn ramen noodles." I shook my head, shuddering. That wasn't the worst one, I'd set my microwave on fire once trying to heat up chicken, an easy mistake to make setting it for an hour and 15 minutes instead of a minute and fifteen seconds.

"I give up," He lifted his hands palms towards me as I watched him from the opposite seat. I pretended to inspect my cuticles, and then when I did, holy fuck did I need a manicure? Lawyer guy probably dated girls with nice nails. I had to make a good impression, I would shoot myself in the mouth if I messed up the first decent date I'd had in months.

I didn't feel like explaining, suddenly I was feeling pretty nervous, and it had nothing to do with the hot guy across from me; go team, so instead I handed Damon my essay and let my pretty damn great writing skills speak for themselves. I wasn't one of those people that pretended I wasn't smart; I knew I was good, really good, and top of the class. I didn't brag about it either, when you grew up hearing the shit being beaten out of your mother by your father, you learn to be humble.

The women leaning against the rail beside me had a pretty interesting cardigan on, seriously, I didn't know you get use so many colours of wool and different designs on one cardigan. I should start knitting; I think I'd look pretty cool knitting, especially with a manicure. It took 3 minutes and 42 seconds for Damon to finish the essay, and muhahaha I had impressed him. And then that stupid smirk appeared again and I was momentarily dazzled, before his stupid vulgar comment.

"So I landed a girl who knows the human anatomy?" His tongue flicked out again, and my panties were soaked. I needed to stop this madness, no, I was going to let him buy me a new shirt and then get rid of him and never speak to him again, because I would impress the shit out of green lawyer boy and I wouldn't have to deliver another pizza again because he'd shower me in gifts and love me forever, and then we'd get married and have kids and get a dog and happily ever after, goodnight and goodbye Damon. Plan.

"You didn't land me, Salvatore." I told him scathingly, it sounded so much better saying Salvatore, and anyway if I called him Damon all I could imagine was saying it in less appropriate situations, and that definitely wasn't good. My brain was turning to goo.

We managed to get to the campus and Bloomingdales without much incident; honestly he only hit on two people. And he sort of complimented my essay, which I would take, and gave me another intense look that made me wonder whether I should be flattered or scared. This guy, dammit he was weird.

But there was something about him, as I watched him move through the other ordinary citizens around us, there was something. He carried himself lazily almost, but with a pride and arrogance that puzzled me, until I realised, there was no fear. He had no fear of anything, no nerves, no doubts, anything he did he seemed to think would cause him no harm. Everyone he saw, or spoke to, he scanned, it was brief, but I noticed. I noticed everything about him, pretty pathetic when I'd only seen him twice but he interested me, unlike anyone else. His eyes told of spectacular secrets that dammit I wished he would tell me, but probably never would, and although he was youthful and handsome, he seemed grim at times, as if he knew more than he should. He made me feel like a child, and older than I'd ever been all at once, a seriously weird combination when he belittled me with stupid comments but looked at me with a mixture of respect and curiosity. In basic terms, he confused the fuck out of me, and I hated being confused more than I hated strawberry ice cream.

I was relieved however that he hadn't seemed to pry into my life as much as I expected him to, in fact after I told him I was majoring in Medicine he shut up for a while, which was a relief because it didn't mean I was fighting the urge to kiss him to make his beautiful mouth stop moving. He was probably one of those guys on a need-to-know basis, who shuddered and dumped you as soon as they saw you in the same panties twice. I hated those guys, another reason piling up on the 'I hate Damon' side of my head. The piles were pretty balanced, but god dammit was I searching for bad things so I could perform a mental lock-up and convince myself I hated his ass.

Bloomingdales was pretty busy, I blamed in on summer sales; nasty things that stole money from my purse without my permission and I had to push through a whole lot of women to get to the counter, all of course ogling Damon. Mine for today, bitches.

I had thought that he'd object when I told him we were heading to Bloomingdales, but instead he offered to buy my new blouse from there. A man with money? It was a new and very very interesting development, but he obviously thought I was some stuck up bitch living on my trust fund and mysteriously delivering pizza just for the heck of it.

I found Seth pretty quickly; he was the biggest guy in the store, all big muscles and beach blonde hair. The perfect catch apparently, just one small problem; I didn't have a dick. He caught sight of me, and my hot arm candy and signalled to me that the coast was clear.

"I've been in a lot of shops before, and I'm pretty sure this isn't the usual method of buying a new blouse," He said lowly, smirking at a few ladies old enough to be my mom as I lead him towards the staff door.

"Oh calm down I'm not going to slaughter you." I breathed under my breath, slipping on Leila's lanyard before talking loudly.

"Yes Mr Salvatore I'm sure we can find your order, what was the address on the parcel again?" He shot me a confused look before spouting off his own address as I gave him silent thumbs up and led him through another door and down a flight of stairs. The huddle of employees hardly gave us a second glance, half of the women there did the same as I was doing just now, they knew.

"Oscar-worthy acting pizza-girl, but can I ask why we couldn't just buy a shirt normally?" He smirked as I led him down the dank corridor, you would think with the millions Bloomingdales brought in they could afford to do a little something with the back-rooms.

"Ah! But you haven't discovered the wonder that is new stock that hasn't been counted!" I said excitedly, my hands clasping at the thought of oh so many Louboutins waiting behind a door that only needed one little easily remembered code.

"So, you have a dirty little secret! Bad pizza-girl, cutting Bloomingdales costs for her own gain." The look in his eyes, oh my god. I would be his naughty pizza-girl! I tried to ignore the heat I felt, instead mumbling something about everyone doing it. I needed to be surrounded by nice things before I could look at him again, maybe it would make his eyes less distracting. I entered the code, and every time, it felt as if I was breaking into a bank and it was the moment of glory, I half expected mist and some angelic music.

I didn't feel guilty about lowering the prices, heck it was their own fault for not checking, we had made a flawless scheme, the stock manager made the numbers up whatever the staff took, god bless her soul. I dubbed her the inventor of why I had nice things. And seen as Leila was my best friend, I was entitled to a share seen as I brought her pizza and nice coffee cups whenever I was working.

Just on time, Seth burst through the door gushing already, damn that boy better not make a move on Damon. Mine.

"Mai! I haven't seen you in so long darling!" Quite the obvious gay, huh? I was pulled into a crushing hug as I patted his back awkwardly, if I'm being totally honest here Seth was too loud and exuberant for me, not my scene. Totally Lola's though. I had barely introduced Damon before Seth was all over him like a rash, the Spanish Inquisition was nothing compared to Seth Brandon's get-to-know conversations. I ruffled through the white blouses until I found something similar to what I'd been wearing, and held it above my head, saving Damon from the grilling.

"I found it! That'll be $35," I told him, taking off my sweater and surveying that yep, that shirt was well and truly ruined. He handed me a $50, as I rolled my eyes at him.

"Keep the change." He said smoothly, waggling his eyebrows at me. I watched Seth watch me as I took the note and swiftly handed him $15 change. Nah-uh I wasn't going to be in more than $500 debt to this man. After a few beats of awkward silence where he didn't seem to be leaving, I pointed acting more bitchy than I really should be to such a handsome man.

"That thing's called a door, sometimes when people go elsewhere they walk through them and go away." I was annoyed, I wanted him to go away so I could focus on nice things such as my lovely date and the even more lovely dress I was going to find when he left.

"And miss the strip-show, no thanks. Anyway I figured I could stay and give a second opinion on whatever." He said lounging on one of the desks with that catlike grin on his face. Damn him!

"Seth's giving me a second opinion." I pointed out, before he winked and totally left me in the lurch.

"Actually, my breaks over, gotta dash darling." He blew me a kiss, and sent a cutesy wave to Damon. And then we were alone again and the tension was back, I mean we could totally get down and dirty in here, no-one would even hear us…

"Looks like you need that second opinion now." I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You're very hard to shake, you know that?" I sighed as he chuckled, "Now turn around, if I so much catch you looking at me I will put a Louboutin through your eye." He gave me scouts honour as I hid behind a makeshift sheet unbuttoning my shirt quickly before replacing it with the new one.

"So Mai then?" I smoothed the shirt down, totally not thinking if it would be acceptable if I could spill the new coffee down his top and we could go try and find him a new top…

"Dammit! The whole mysterious acts gone then I guess," I grumbled to myself before I pulled the sheet back and sighing. "Mary-Lily's too much of a mouthful, it sounds like I'm a stuck up bitch." I told him truthfully, flicking through a rack full of cellophane wrapped dresses.

"So you're not a stuck-up bitch, or at least you pretend not to be." He stated as if I was a puzzle he had to put together.

"Work it out yourself, even if I was going 'rogue' do you really think I'd be delivering pizza with an insanely large trust fund in the bank?"

"You never know," He shrugged as I turned round with a mocking stare,

"Let's just say you live on the Upper East Side, I grew up in East Brooklyn." I shook it off blasé style, who cares if rich man knew where I grew up? Not me. Cool as a cucumber. "Now, are you gonna make yourself useful and help me find a dress or what?" Distraction is key. He walked lazily towards me, standing so close beside our shoulders touched. Refrain that shiver, refrain.

"So what sort of dress?" He said fingering a few with his large hands, the things those hands could do, I could only guess. Breathe.

"Classy, I'm going on a date." I told him smugly, I was so good, totally covering my tracks about thinking about him for two weeks.

"So that's code for slutty?" His smirk was electric as I rolled my eyes, this was going to a long long shopping experience.

After a whole lot of taunts, sexual innuendos and five million dresses that I swear he just made me try on to see my cleavage, we came to a conclusion – our first decision made together, a momentous moment in a relationship, we were exchanging rings tomorrow FYI.

I needed help with the zip, but I had to admit I was looking pretty damn good, the dress was the perfect mixture between classy with a little bit of exposed skin which Damon had advised me was the extra every man looked for. I accepted this I mean, had you seen him lately? I figured he knew his women.

"Can you?" I gestured to my back as I stepped out from behind the curtain that was really useless after I'd figured he could see through when he tried to convince me a dress would look better without my bra on, pervert.

I wish I could say after a while I had grown immune to his touch, but it still jilted me and made me feel all warm and gooey inside which was not good when you're chanting the strong woman mantra in your head. He zipped me up quickly and shadowed me to the mirror where he smoothed his hands down my sides. The dress was red, of course and I looked surprisingly flawless

I locked eyes with him through the mirror as I watched him watch me. A shiver passed through me, and I suddenly realised I was out of my depth. What was I doing? I shouldn't be doing this with a stranger, but I was rooted to the spot as one of his hands stayed splayed on my hip while the other reached up to move my hair to one side, leaving my neck exposed. He moved forward until he was pressed against me and his head lingered between my neck and shoulder as I swallowed thickly.

"What are you doing?" I croaked as I looked at him in the mirror. His eyes were fire, bright and burning and I had the strangest sense of fear that gripped me as his breath hit against my neck.

"Distracting myself," He murmured, before moving back so suddenly I flinched. I felt silly now, almost cheap at the way I had let him touch me and stick around all day without thinking. He shrugged into his jacket and headed towards the door. "Enjoy your date, Mai." And then he left, just like that, leaving me all confused and light-headed about what his deal was.


	3. Angels and Demons

I was on my fifth glass of over-priced red wine and damn was I feeling it. I fidgeted uncomfortably in my high backed seat as I looked round the fancy restaurant Gabriel had taken me to; I'd already dubbed him Angel Gabriel in my head (his hair was seriously blonde). He was currently taking a 'call' but I swear I saw Mom flash on the screen, it was cute, maybe he was telling her that I was his one true love and then he'd get down on one knee and propose.

"Not bloody likely," I snorted to my over imaginative self and took another glug of wine. May as well get my money's worth I thought bitterly as I felt my bare neck for the pendant that usually hung there. It really wasn't Gabriel's fault I was in bitch-mode, but he was certainly getting the wrath. He was too nice for his own good anyway, he needed to toughen up and take control of the situation instead of letting me walk all over him with my very high heels.

I'd gotten home from one of the most confusing experiences of my life, flustered with a still swirling stomach that was making me feel sick, so I went to go shower to calm down and start getting ready for the date that would hopefully take my mind off of Damon and his weird as fuck actions, when I went to take my necklace off and I realised it was gone. Poof. Just like that.

To say I freaked the fuck out was an understatement, that necklace had been my mothers and her mother's etc etc, I got the full speech from my Alzheimer's riddled grandmother every time I went to see her, which truthfully wasn't that often but you get the gist, it was a pretty damn valuable necklace, one of the only family heirlooms we had and the ramifications of losing it were enough to make me consider dropping out of college and moving to Alaska.

I had called Seth to see if I'd left it in the store-room, I emptied my handbag which I hadn't done since the day it was bought, I searched every pocket possible, my hair, goddamn everywhere it could have been, but of course no luck. I was absolutely positively certain I had been wearing it the full day, and if it had come off in the street, there was no chance I'd ever see it again. I was distraught, so distraught that I'd forgotten to shower until half an hour before Gabriel was due to pick me up, hence going out with scabby nails, damp hair and a foul mood that was mostly Lola's fault after she told me to suck it up. Bitch, I sometimes forgot why I lived with her.

The only other option I had was to consider the man that I had banned from being thought about this date…aw what the heck I'd already broken the rule at least 20 times already why not go into more detail? I didn't take Damon for a thief, anyway what would he have wanted with my necklace? Sure it was pretty and looked valuable but I had gathered that he had more than enough money than to steal jewellery. Even so, surely I would remember him taking it from me? Or not? I could hardly remember anything about why he left so suddenly, I had been caught up in those ice-blue eyes.

Whatever had happened, my necklace was still missing and I was so sad I couldn't even make a joke. Twas a mournful night in the mind of Mai Crossar, sarcasm and back-chat gone, but never forgotten.

Back to the date, Gabriel had returned and was smiling at me with a goofy grin. Didn't he know when he did that he looked like a little boy? Ugh, maybe I was just being nasty I mean I couldn't really fault him, he was intelligent, good-looking, polite, could carry a conversation and he seemed genuinely interested in me. All the tick boxes, but apparently my mind was having none of it, instead I was craving a nasty man that left me in the lurch, but at least he made me feel SOMETHING. Angel Gabriel made me feel nothing, na-da, not even the tiniest spark when he put his hand on the small of my back as we had walked to the restaurant. Fuck.

Apparently he'd taken care of the bill after he'd gotten off of the phone, I hadn't noticed, obviously, because I was pining after stupid Salvatore. That could be his new nickname, so now I had two opposing teams Angel Gabriel vs. Stupid Salvatore, and SS was sweeping the park with his mysterious ways while AG played it safe with minimum touching and compliments.

I was feeling pretty fuzzy as I stood up, letting him help me put my coat on and I started to realise that jeez was this walk home going to be awkward, I mean what was I supposed to say to the guy? I'd half listened to his blah blah blah topics all night and now it was showing. Shit, why did he want to be a lawyer again? Key question, crap. Shoot me. I was too drunk for the hyped up walk home, you're supposed to act all sweet and romantic with some slight hints that your apartment was empty, and if you were really going in for the kill when you were a street or two away from your/his place "So do you wanna come up for some coffee?" I was biding my time waiting for sweet little Angel Gabriel who obviously liked me –he was giving me those lookie-lookie eyes, to drop said hint, but nope not a peep of any of that talk, instead I got;

"So what made you move to Manhattan?" Hm uh hm, good question! I didn't even know the answer to that one, the real one wasn't first date material answer, heck it wasn't even fiancée material, it was all a little too damsel in distress tragic. So, I answered a question with a question, I'd done a little bit of psychology as a module in my first year I knew how to do pull that shit.

"Doesn't everyone want to move to New York when they're young? So you've lived here your whole life then?" Bam, just like that. I wobbled in my heels a little, but Angel Gabriel was so caught up in describing to me his childhood visits into the city with his big stereotypical American family from his hometown of Connecticut that he didn't seem to notice. Our hands swung awkwardly between us never touching; yep this wasn't going to work. He was too conscious of what was right, and what was the first date standards when really all a women wanted was to be swooped off her feet and kissed a lot a lot. Like I needed a lot a lot of coffee, right now, right here. I was gonna suggest this idea to Angel Gabriel but really I couldn't stand to be with him any longer, he was booooooring I needed something fun like a game of Twister or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich right now so I could mourn my necklace and any remaining contact with my family in style.

He walked me all the way to my apartment, a true gentlemen some would say, I didn't give a damn right then, my head was swimming with the fishes and I was ready to keel or hurl, something a stereotypical white girl would do after her date takes her to a restaurant with too small portions served with wine that has too many units per glass. I hiccupped a little as I reminded Angel Gabriel, as I had been the full night that my flat-mate was home. Better to get the point across to save last minute awkwardness. He dropped me at the door, not my flat door, the big outside door leaving me to brave three flights of stairs all by myself. Rude.

Wait for it though, I got a kiss on the forehead! Way to make me feel fifty, angel. I swear he heard me snort even though I tried to pass it off as a very convincing cough, but whatever. The date had been a bust, and it had cost me a day with an ignorant pervert who most probably stole my necklace, forty dollars I didn't really have to spend, a shift at Pascals and one less night in my bed because the posts still hadn't bewitched themselves - like they would have in Harry Potter – and put themselves together. Talk about pricey for a whole lot of talk and no action.

I almost gave up on the second flight of stairs, because I was totally convinced I would not make it up another set of stairs that night and was prepared to knock on kind old Mrs Reeds door who let us borrow sugar all the time to ask her if I could sleep on her couch, but I marched on until I came to my own flecked door. It was bright blue, credit all to moi.

"Honey, I'm home!" I screeched, hopefully scaring the shit out of Theodore, the stupid stray cat Leila had decided should be granted access to our home. He hated me almost as much as I hated him, god-damn fur-ball. I'd like to beat his ass up.

"Hurry you're missing Dirty Dancing, Swayze's getting his top off!" Leila yelled as I scooted through the tiny kitchen into our open plan living room, Leila was spread across my usual bed, using my quilt and MY pillow. Sure enough, on our dodgy television set that turned off if you stepped near its left side was showing God himself and my first childhood crush stripping off while Baby acted like she couldn't dance. I was onto that girl, she just wanted a little bit of lovin, bitch. Sharing's caring.

"Gimme those leftovers," I hopped out of my massive high heels, whipped off my jacket and dived under the duvet beside her as she handed me the remains of her takeaway and I scarfed it down, in the fancy restaurant I'd been too distraught and bored to really concentrate on my food, not that there had been much to concentrate on – I'd seen homeless people being given more at shelters. I was done with the martyr act, I was damn hungry.

"How was your date?" Leila asked without taking her eyes from the screen, I rolled my eyes speaking with my mouth full.

"Crap, he didn't even give me a kiss; I got one on the forehead. I'm never being set up again, you people have terrible taste." I pouted as she turned around to me, her hand going to her heart.

"Terrible taste? That guy was a lovely piece of ass; it's not my fault you're still hung up on Mr-Let-Me-Buy-You-A-New-Shirt-And-Help-You-Pick-A- Dress-For-Your-New-Date." She mocked me, crossing her arms defiantly. My mouth hung open in horror, friggin bitch, she wasn't supposed to bring him up in casual context like this! I didn't have time to prepare answers.

"I am not, and it's not my fault that I don't think that Angel Gabriel was a lovely piece of ass, it's yours and also I was seduced and taken hostage by that bad man and it'll never happen again, Scouts Honour." I promised, finishing the carton of fried rice off with a burp and snuggling into the sofa arm. She'd given me hell about going out with strangers that I hardly knew, that's what happens when you live with a freakazoid. This sofa arm was pretty comfy; maybe I could just fall asleep like this instead of trying out my new mattress. That would be sweet.

"You're such an insufferable drunk, that didn't even make sense." She laughed, snatching my carton from me and aiming it at the trash bucket; she missed of course only I got it in because I was superior.

"You're such an insufferable…person." I moaned, pulling the covers over my face and sliding my feet over her lap, "I can feel the hangover already. Did you find my necklace?" I peeked my head up hopefully to be met with a head-shake and an excited 'SHHH' as they started dancing on the overturned tree trunk.

I tried to pay attention to the film, I really did but next thing I know bam – Daddy's watching Baby and Swayze take to the floor, Leila's murdering 'Time of my Life' and someone's buzzing the door.

"If that's Angel Gabriel, no he can't refund the forehead kiss." I mumbled as I felt Leila's weight leave the couch and my feet drop into a lovely warm spot while she muttered swear words. "And if it's someone coming to murder us, please scream to warn me so I can jump out the window." As much as I was comfy, dammit I needed to pee.

I ran as quick as was humanly possible to the toilet, duvet still wrapped around me. What? Electricity bills are expensive! The light flickered and jeez, this felt like one of those horror movies where I would step outside Leila would have an axe going through her head with Scream standing behind her. It was no wonder I nearly fell of the toilet when Leila rammed into the bathroom.

"OH MY GOD CAN I NOT EVEN PEE YOU WEIRDO!" I screamed covering myself up as she shouted over the top of me,

"IT'S THE HOT WHATS-HIS-NAME GUY!" Oh my god. No, this could not be happening dammit all to hell.

"Please tell me you mean cute little Angel Gabriel and not the sexual deviant I spent the day with," I cried, wriggling out of the toilet seat.

"Nope! Damon, he said his name, that is his name right? If not, there is a rapist approaching the apartment." She told me, fidgeting with my hair and my dress.

"What the fuck are you doing? Leave me alone woman!" I shrugged out of her grasp shooting her an irritated look, "Why did you let him up? You told me he was bad news." I pouted as she continued to fix my hair.

"You already let one slip through the net; I won't let you let another go through on my watch!" She said triumphantly, her blonde hair falling down from her bun.

"I'm waaaay too drunk for this," I stated, slapping my cheeks a little to get some colour back into them and wiping my smudgy mascara. I looked rough as hell, dammit. Leila slapped my ass as I walked past and I shook my booty a little – how was I expected to have a decent conversation with anyone never mind the HOTTEST guy I'd ever met?

Everything was still a little bit blurry around the edges, kinda like one of those telescopes you used to have when you were a kid, the ones you always used to get in your Christmas cracker that were all multi-coloured and split into different squares – like that. Anyway, it took me a while to get to the door and then I realised just how mentally unprepared I was for this.

He was leaning against the bannister with that goddamn hair and that goddamn jacket. I had forgotten what it was like to be near him – my heartbeat quickening the moment my eyes met his. My breath was shallower than usual and from the smirk playing on his lips I knew he'd noticed. He'd changed clothes since the last time I'd saw him; snapping the door shut as I watched him in a daze. Just when I thought he couldn't get any more damn perfect he'd put on a light grey button down shirt underneath that delicious leather jacket. I could eat him up like maple syrup pancakes.

Doubts began wriggling in my mind as I looked him over, how could I believe he had stolen it – even for just a second? But how could I have doubted it? He was like a fallen angel that was fucking with my mind. Metaphors came naturally to me when I was drunk.

"What are you doing here?" Dang this hall was freezing, you would think that hitting the middle of June where the temperatures would be at an all-time high that this place would warm up a little but na-uh, it was an old building with seriously high ceilings and radiators that didn't work. It didn't help that the stairs were stone either; they hurt like hell after a drunken night out. He shrugged, one hand stuck in his jeans pocket while his eyes searched mine.

"I wanted to see how your date went," The emphasis on the date made me shudder, thinking how badly it had went. I mean I had been a bitch the full time, we had nothing in common and he was too straight-up normal. Straight-up normal guys were for when you reached twenty-nine and started having mid-life crisis's because your friends were all elbow-deep in baby booms and Wisteria Lane neighbours.

"Great, we had so much in common." I gushed, smiling wanly. I was so good at gushing when I was drunk! Damn, it was an almost believable outright lie. If I held eye contact this might work out…maybe. He took a step closer towards me, a smirk appearing as he asked me again.

"How did it really go?" And all of a sudden, word vomit.

"It was terrible, I didn't like him at all, I was distracted all night." I slapped my hand over my mouth quickly afterwards and stepped away. Dammit! Why did I always have to get drunk and blurt out my feelings? I murmured a soft curse under my breath as I looked down at my feet, trying to pluck up the courage to look at Stupid Salvatore again. If I had thought he was smirking before, it was nothing compared to now.

"Look I'm exhausted and quite frankly I'm drunk, care to explain why you're here?" I raised my eyebrow, smoothing down my crinkled dress.

"Missing anything?" He said mischievously and suddenly there was a glint of gold dangling from his palm. Him! It was my necklace, relief flooded me and froze cold when I went to grab it and he pulled it back from me, sliding it into his back-pocket.

"Hey! That's mine give it back!" I pushed forward, trying to reach into his pocket. Unsurprisingly he was stronger as he gripped my forearms gently but forcefully as I fought to get past. His touch did funny things to me, and I ignored the shiver of pleasure that coursed through me as I tried again to delve into his back-pocket. He got tired of my efforts and pushed me back slightly, chuckling.

"You're an asshole!" I whispered harshly, not wanting to cause a commotion at nearly two a.m. Mr O'Dwyer could get pretty feisty with his walking stick if he woke up before 6. He stole our newspaper for three weeks after Leila slipped on the stairs and screamed. Those were a bad three weeks.

"I love it when you talk dirty," He teased as I flushed furiously, sobering up all of a sudden. That god-damn ass! Who in the hell did he think he was? That necklace was mine by claim, and I would fight to the death to get it back rather than face the wrath of Grandma G. I made a move to step forward again but he held up his hands, his shit-eating grin back in place.

"Uh, uh, uh. Hear me out. I have a proposition for you." His eyes scorched me and suddenly my whole body was warm as I shifted from foot to foot. I bit my lip, there really was no point in putting up an argument, he'd keep showing up with the dang thing if I refused or maybe he'd sell it? Anyway, I was pretty sure what this proposition was and I was pretty sure it had something to do with my bootylicious body.

"Hit me with it," I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. It had turned into a fluffy mess now that the mousse I had squirted in it to make it look at least a little presentable while half-wet had disintegrated.

"Meet me for lunch tomorrow, I'll tell you more then." He smirked cheekily as I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Fine, but I want a deposit." I insisted, holding my hands out. I was glad to see his eyebrows furrow slightly, before he smoothed his face over and leaned against the bannister again.

"Hm, you're a strange one. Usually your kind is much less eager than this." He remarked, his eyes studying my body slowly.

"My kind? What am I a special breed?" I scoffed, chuckling slightly. It sounded funnier in my head. "Anyway what's the point in pussy-footing around here? You have something of mine and I need it back, you are already informed of this and are gonna creep up on me here there and everywhere if I don't accept this invitation. Deposits make me feel better," I shrugged, forgetting to add that he interested me, I wanted to know more. Maybe I was leading him on a little and being incredibly stupid getting stuck in a situation like this but whatever; I could blame it on drunken decisions in the morning.

He copied my shrug before pulling out his phone. I craned my neck, trying to work out what the hell he was doing and failing miserable. I gave in, "What are you doing?" I asked mildly, trying not to seem _too _interested.

"Texting you," He replied nonchalantly, and my mouth opened slowly before I swallowed my complaint.

"You're a freakin' weirdo, you know that? So what's my deposit?"

"You'll find out soon," He took a quick step forward, "Until then." And I was so sure he was going to lean in for the biggie – the lip lock and dammit dammit! My breath stunk of booze and sleep, this guy had the worst timing. But instead he took my hand gently and lifted it to his mouth and oh my god I melted as his cool lips grazed my knuckles for the briefest of seconds before he turned abruptly and headed down the stairs while I stared at him, dazed.

After I'd recovered from the most romantic kiss I'd received from the male species ever, I dashed inside ignoring Leila's shouted questions and checked my piece of shit phone. I had one text from an unknown number –

"Katerina Petrova – 1473-1492 Bulgaria, Elena Gilbert 1992-Present Mystic Falls, Virginia."


End file.
